50 Asgard Vignetes
by Ariadne-Labrys
Summary: 50 prompts proposed at the Valhalla Halls community at LJ. All of them have Asgard as setting and their inhabitants as characters. The vignetes will be posted in the order in which they're written.
1. 20 Virtuous

** 020. Virtuous**  
**Characters**: Siegfried mainly…and Hilda.  
**Word** **Count**: 456  
**Warning**: A bit of sex imagery around here.

He would've wanted the world to see her. To observe her as she was being attended by those lesser priestess. Siegfried could even imagine Fhler's face, her eyes would probably be locked on her sister and the lust that flickered in her eyes at that very moment. What would the younger Valkyrie say or think about her older sister, he wondered.

The man was marvelled at the sight of the woman being covered by the other women's mouths, bodies. He couldn't actually tell where one of them began and the next continued. The worst part of the whole thing was that it had meant to be a simple bath, and he mused thinking about what it had turned into.

He licked his lips hiding from their sight. His aura was nothing but a thought, and behind the columns of the place, he continued enjoying what was being offered for him to see.

The virtue of a virgin priestess was at hand. He could make his move. Siegfried knew that he could stretch his hand and Hilda would reach out for it. However, he decided not to do it and go against his basic needs. He didn't even dare touch himself. No. That was for later, for that tall priestess he had summoned. The one named after his wife of the ancient times. He always chose her. She always complied.

Even Hilda knew about it.

To Brunhilde, being held by the Captain of the Asgardian Guard and act as his companion were enough. Besides, Siegfried had never denied their mutual agreement. Brunhilde had never lied to him or had pretended to be what she wasn't. The woman gave and in the same way, she demanded from him. Siegfried had always loved the equality between them. Had always considered her perfect.

That was why when she noticed him coming into her chamber, hidden in the shadows of the place, Hilda had decided to play a little with him. She hated Brunhilde. Asgard's first priestess hated the fact that Siegfried would prefer the other woman over her. It would've been so easy to just let go in his arms. To feel them wrapped around her slim body, protecting her…or doing something else, she thought.

That was precisely why she was enjoying showing off before him. Let him what he couldn't have because of his stubbornness and denial.

Siegfried walked out the room in the same way he had entered. Hilda was nothing but something illusory. He knew Hilda's play perfectly well. And he loved it. It made him feel wanted by her. Made him believe she would one day relinquish her pride and come to him. He would wait—or not.

After all, the real virtue was waiting for him.


	2. 46 Wax

** 046. Wax**  
**Characters**: Alcor Bud  
**Word** **Count**: 621

The candle had consumed a long time ago. Its smell, however, remained in the place and filled his senses in an uncanny manner. He had loved it as it had died and even more while it was alive, shining with all its glory and might. Bud snorted annoyed. It was all a lie, he knew, there was nothing in him that could tell him of feelings different from hatred and anger. How much time has it passed since the moment he had seen that other boy who was so similar to him? A month? A year? No one had ever given him an answer, not even those he called parents. No one.

The boy walked around his humble room. Perhaps those inexistent pieces of information he so needed could finally have a shape and he could understand better. Bud needed to understand, for he could feel how his whole world was disappearing right in front of him. He had never minded being the son of those two people. His mother and father had tried and done everything they could to provide him of everything he needed. Still, they were poor, weren't they?

Bud approached the table where his food had been placed a long time ago and threw the plates and cups onto the floor. Anger had taken over him. He deserved so much better than what he'd had, he kept repeating in his head. How come the other boy was so richly dressed while he was only wearing the rags other children from Asgard had dismissed? A yell of bitterness became a whisper and soon, he found himself trying not to destroy everything around him.

"Bud? Are you all right, son?" The woman knocked on the door and he turned to look at it, he had his fists closed and his eyes showed his feelings. Bud found himself impeded to call her mother one more time. They had just told him the truth a few moons ago, when he had finally confronted those who had raised him and they had spoken with their hearts. The only thing Bud could clearly bring to his memory was the smell of bee wax that was in the room that night.

The same smell he was just experiencing.

"I'm fine!" he yelled, closing any hope for more conversation.

The future ahead of him was uncertain. On one hand, he was feeling overwhelmed by his recently found truth and on the other hand, he new he was jealous of the other boy.

To him, Syd wasn't his twin, he was the one who had stolen his life from him. Bud saw it in the delicacy of his clothes, of his manners. Bud snorted yet again and looked for the plate where the melted wax rested. He had meant to throw it far from him, against the door his mother had just knocked a while ago, but caution acted before him and he breathed deeply. The candle didn't consume itself in a second. It'd taken him many moments in the process, and as it was happening, the wax changed.

Bud decided at that moment that he was to mutate just like that candle, which had been was before and had returned to its true self. He was exactly like that candle. He had been the son of one of Asgard's richest families and had changed into a peasant and it was going to take him time to go back to be what he was meant to be. Bud was determined to learn how to be his brother, he was to became Syd and by doing that, he was going to regain what was rightfully his.

It didn't matter how long it was going to take him.


	3. 38 Victory

** 038. Victory**  
**Characters**: Fenrir  
**Word** **Count**: 573  
**Warning**: Bloody imagery ahead.

The blood ran down his throat, it tasted like metal or something of the sort, the only thing he'd ever tried like that was the old keys of his parents' manor when he was nothing but a child and his nanny had scolded him. This was so much better. He could feel it, warm and challenging at the same time, the heart of the animal still beating, he could feel it hitting his forehead as he buried his human fangs near its stomach and drank avidly.

That was how Jin had taught him to hunt, follow your prey, let it know you're there, never retreat and most of all, be flawless when bringing death to it. The excitement it brought him was nothing compared to what he had felt before, when he had abandoned his pack and had run with Jin just a few meters away from him, watching him in silence. Jin had howled when he'd caught his prey and had let him eat it alone. No one would bother him. Not even him, the alpha of the pack.

Fenrir learnt that day about loyalty, when he withdrew from the animal, and moved aside, the dorsum of his hand moving over his mouth and then he licked it. He motioned towards Jin, asking him to eat from his prey, to honour him by accepting the offering. Yet Jin made him eat alongside him. It was their triumph and it was their day to rejoice.

They heard shots in the distance and this time Fenrir didn't flinch. He had forgotten how to do it. Jin and the other wolves had taught him not to fear what he already knew. Make the mistake and learn from it had been the silent lesson, and he'd learnt it well. The four-legged animals ran away noiseless. Even Jin had run to a safe place, just to see Fenrir observe the two-legged ones. The wolf would simply stare at him, seeing that flicker of hatred and melancholy he so feared. He had seen the same emotions in Fenrir when he'd been a child and his family had been killed before his eyes. He was the alpha of the pack, he knew.

He feared one day, Fenrir would run to the two-legged and leave him. Sometimes, he longed for it. This time, he was expecting it.

However, Fenrir just turned his back to the humans. He still walked liked them, but smelt like a wolf. Jin could smell it in the air, the blood still staining Fenrir's face and a small line of it ran out of the corner of his mouth. He was grinning, and the wolf understood the gesture.

Jin waited for him and as he reached him, they walked together to the old house where Fenrir always returned. It was big, was falling apart, but it was also warm and when sleeping one next to the other, it felt the right place to be. They both knew that night, their hunting had been completed. Fenrir had silently faced his demons and on that day, Fenrir had won. He had watched the humans and had made his final decision. He would be one of them until the day of the Ragnarok. He would feed with them, off the forest and he would be his own Lord. Only Odin was above him, and perhaps, one day, if he called him, Fenrir would listen to his voice.

Perhaps.


	4. 02 Crazy

** 002. Crazy  
Characters**: Alberich  
**Word** **Count**: 536  
**Warning**: Not very gentle scenes ahead. Not proofread.

They said he'd lost all sanity. They had also said the House of Megrez was doomed. Alberich had just laughed at them and had forgotten about them all. Nobody knew him, and even when his own servants were spreading the rumours about him, Alberich simply shrugged and let it go.

His time would arrive soon.

The man was walking around the big room in the manor for the thousandth time that evening. The events of the day were repeating themselves before his eyes as if in a movie. One action after the next, he could see the waves of the Asgardian ocean grow tall and crash against the rocks that guarded the sacred places and the earth. Over and over, he would see his own mother covered with blood as she pierced his father's flesh more times than he'd been able to count.

On that night, the Megrez family suffered a loss, nobody knew about. Not a soul had been witness and when his mother had come to the table to have dinner with him, Alberich had conversed and answered to her every single query. Lady Megrez had even talked about his future, and how he should've been instructed to finally be the new Lord of the Megrez Household.

Alberich had not been moved by her mother's words. Being only an adolescent granted him the curiosity of what is unknown and appealing. Whatever words his mother had been saying meant nothing to him at the moment. The thrill of the knowledge he wanted to acquire made him shiver.

A few nights later, he received answer to his requests. His personal service had finally gathered that which he'd asked for and the emotions showed in his face, scaring the others as they gave him the news.

Down and deep into the dungeons Alberich walked. There, in the well-light catacomb-like room, Alberich rejoiced in the sight before him. The woman was sprawled on the table, naked and drunk in her own fear. He could smell the stench of her urine as she had loosened her sphincter in despair. It just increased his lust for her. He meant not to bed her. Nothing so beyond reality, but as he folded the sleeves of his shirt and walked closer to her, he made it clear for the others that his desire relied not in the woman's body as a sexual object, but as a torture pet. Alberich knew at that very moment that he was to enjoy her screams and the sight of her blood abandoning her body more than he'd ever enjoyed anything before.

"Leave us." He ordered, his smile broadening as the footsteps faded away.

Lady Alberich had followed them, and as soon as the servants saw her walking securely to the place, they bowed and let her be. If the son was twisted, the mother was wicked. They said nothing, and made their way to the upper rooms. The masters should be left alone. The woman observed every movement of her son; and loved how he so neatly broke the woman's flesh; savouring her screams of pain. Delicious to her ears and magnificent to her ego. Not a single stain of blood tainting Alberich's hands.

For now.


	5. 11 Restraints

** 011. Restraints  
Characters**: Thor de Pecda Gamma

Since he was a child, Thor had been told he couldn't do what he wanted to do. He was too big and of course he outstood everyone. He was too strong and couldn't play with the other kids. Also, Thor was too peasant-like and could never be a noble. Every single thing he'd ever heard, he'd shrugged it. Thor believed Odin had made him what he was for a reason, and he embraced that thought even when he wasn't really certain of it.

His life was bound to be imprisoned inside his big body. He was welcome everywhere as long as he was quiet and didn't bother anyone. Being twelve and looking as an adult wasn't exactly what people wanted. But, what about what _he_ wanted?

Many years passed and Thor never cared about those things, enclosing in his own world, creating whatever diversion would keep him grounded and safe from people's evilness.

So, he prayed to Odin.

Thor asked about his fate in nights of new moon and felt his god heard him when he ventured in the nearby forests and discovered the ones that belonged to the noblest House in Asgard. In the trees, Thor discovered his real height, therefore his might, and in the wide space he re-learnt himself and unleashed his power.

Suddenly, there was nothing that would stop him. He would stand as tall as he was and the unseen chains that tied him to Asgard broke.

Thor became free.


	6. 01 Different

**001. Different**

**Characters**: Mime

He always knew he was no ordinary child. It didn't matter that his _father_ wouldn't even look at him for days and nights. He didn't need anyone to tell him who he was or what a disgrace he was. Mime always knew he was simply different.

His father Folker had the habit of accusing him of not being who he was supposed to be. A great warrior he called him some times, some others a good son. Mime couldn't and wouldn't fathom beyond his father's thoughts and by doing so, he knew he would become he who he was meant to be.

Day and night he trained through the faintest presence of the sun, and through the hardest blizzard. He was to become a warrior. One far greater than his own father.

Still, he knew he couldn't follow the same path his father had taken. For months, the young heir of the Benetnasch lineage doubted. What to do? How to do it? Was it the right path? Even when he wasn't sure as to what it was that he had to do, life showed him he had to be as different as they all thought him to be. Little by little, Mime learnt that his not being ordinary came in handy.

He was allowed to spend time with himself, and with that time, the perfection of the art of the music, and the emotions came, and when he trained; he would bring that perfection into his work and he would become flawless.

No one knew that which he was doing. Only his father, who once fought him looking for answers and reactions from him and obtained neither. Only the cold stare of a son that wasn't his and the knowledge that everything you do in life has a price. He has taken the child's parents' lives. It was only fair to die by his hand.

Yes, Mime was indeed no ordinary, and by accepting it, the warrior embraced his armour and with it Odin's sapphire, which blessed him and told him it was all right to be whom he was; for she, Eta, needed no more.


End file.
